


Baby, I’d Kill a Thousand Dreams For You

by ProfessorBanks



Category: game of thrones
Genre: Angst, Drugs, F/M, Jon and Daenerys are a bit dark, Smut, drug usage, rickon is aged down, the gays are here, theon and viserys are still slimy, very angsty, youre probably gonna hate me when this is all done
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-17
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 09:50:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16323956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProfessorBanks/pseuds/ProfessorBanks
Summary: Jon Snow is the king of one of the most notorious drug cartels in Westeros, but his defenses have been weakened by a catastrophe and when Daenerys Targaryen comes to Westeros to take vengeance and what is hers he offers her an alliance of marriage to take down their common enemies. They didn’t expect to fall in love.





	1. The beginning of forever and never

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic I’m HYPERVENTILATING

The tension in the room was tangible. It was so quiet, only the bristling sound of the wind from the balcony, Jon swore he could hear her breathe. Her being his ‘wife’. She was standing on the balcony smoking a cigarette, gazing at his home. He was sitting at the table observing the woman he was just sworn to spend the rest of his life with. The woman he swore to love and protect, through sickness and in health. ‘Till death do them part. And he meant it, just not out of love. Out of obligation. Out of duty, to his family. Well, what’s left of them. 

Jon’s father and his father before that, was the king of the most powerful drug cartel of the north. They called themselves house Stark. They smuggled almost every drug to mankind around the world. In all kinds of disguises. They smuggled the drugs in dresses, food, even humans. Nationwide. Jon in no way was ashamed of what his father did for a living. He’s now even running the family business. Sure, he sells drugs, but he in no way forced any man or woman to inhale or snort any drug he distributes. They did it on their own accord. Would he ever put coke up his nose? Fuck no. And if they were smart they wouldn’t either. Jon’s come to the conclusion long ago that anyone who does drugs wasn’t very smart. His father once told him even the most intelligent man can fall victim. He called bullshit. Where was those little brain cells of said man when he decided to do snort a line? Roll the bowl? Exactly. 

They made millions off of people’s nasty habits. Turned it into money, a lifestyle. And with that lifestyle, risks also came. Problems came. One day, those risks came and swallowed them whole. Chewed them up and spit them out like left over meat stuck between your teeth. His father was first. 

You see, they weren’t the only ones who discovered this could be a fucking great way to live. Other great houses were and still are founded and funded the same as his fathers was. Targaryens, Lannisters, Tyrells, Baratheons, Greyjoys, Tullys, and The Freys. Although, they all were considered the noble houses of Westeros, ultimately the most important ones were the Starks, Targaryens, And Lannisters. They decided what was gonna happen and when, how and why, who and what. All the others were like pillars, support for the bigger elements at play. 

And for hundreds of years, the system worked. It functioned without the need of oil on the rusty hinges. But, somewhere along the way, it all got messy. Judgements were clouded and secrets were kept. Promises broken. Unspeakable acts committed. And all that deceit and chaos is how Jon ended up here, in this room with the last Targaryen known to mankind. Who he now knows as his wife. 

She’s beautiful, he can admit that, hell any man could. When he first heard of the Targaryen across the narrow sea who now was on the verge on of restoring her house to what it once was, he scoffed at the mere thought. For he knew it all could be rumors, a pretender impersonating a Targaryen. He didn’t not believe it because the tales said it was a woman, but simply because it was just unrealistic. If it were true, she would have nothing to even help her in this conquest. No Alliances, no anything. But then again, an 18 year old Jon wouldn’t have thought his father would die such a horrible death, nor brother. Or even step mother, no matter how many times he’s envisioned her head on an silver platter. Pulling him out of his thoughts was his wife’s footsteps as she put out her cigarette in the ash tray on the table beside him. His eyes end up on the opening of her silk robe, her position giving him a front row seat. He can’t help but ogle her body a little. Especially considering the way her hips sway as she goes to sit down in the chair across from him. Her light chuckle pulls him out of his trance. She caught him. He blinks ferociously and takes another long drag of his cigarette before putting it out, right beside hers, red lipstick around the top. 

“So, husband,” she began dragging out the husband part. “Tell me something about yourself. Here we are, first week of knowing each other, and all I know about you is that your name is Jon snow, you like to brood, and you need my armies.” 

Jon’s hand subconsciously drifts up to scratch his beard, something he does when he’s nervous. “I’ve always wanted to join the Westerosi army; which is part of the reason I joined the nights watch at such an young age. I like my tea cold rather than hot, I absolutely hate heat. I don’t smile quite often, so when you see me doing this, don’t feel as if you’ve done something to make me upset”, Jon says, waving at his face. “When I was in high school, I played football for the wolves of Winterfell.” 

“You did? You do seem quite small”, she states with a small smile. Intriguing amusement twinkling in her eyes. 

“What does that supposed to mean”, he snorts. 

“No offense, but, you don’t quite often see men of your particular build participate in sports”, they both let out dry chuckles. 

“In that case, please tell me what a petite girl like yourself played in high school?” 

“Never had the chance. I was ‘homeschooled’ by my brother all the way up until I was able to teach myself.” 

“No offense”, Jon begins waving his left hand in the air, “but I can’t imagine being in the same room as your petulant brother for more than 10 seconds. How did you ever take years of his company?”

“Mmhm yes,” she mumbles softly, crossing her legs. “Not many can, I’ve concluded.”

“Has he always been that way?” 

She looks at him, conflicted. “When we were younger, he was kind to me, I would even say sweet. As we got older and times got harder, the innocence was slowly drained from him. I remember the exact moment the sparkle was snatched from his eyes. We were hungry, hadn’t ate in days. Our clothes old and long over due for the trash compartment. My mother, had given viserys a red ruby encrusted pendant. It was made to put a photo inside. She put a photo of her nuzzling his cheek. It was beautiful. He wore it around his neck everyday after she gave it to him. It was the only thing he had left of her. Anywho, he sold it for about 1000 Westerosis. He was obviously took fast because the pendant was obviously worth 100,000 Westerosis or more—“ 

“You two honestly had no family you could’ve went to? No distance cousins or—“ 

She cuts him off with a cold glare.

He realizes his mistake. 

His family was of the main players who brought the end to her family. But if her brother hadn’t hadn’t been an evil fucking insolent dummy, none of that would have happened. No one told him to kidnap Lyanna Stark and rape her. 

“My husband,” she says laced with sarcasm, “your father and his best friend made sure we were never at peace no matter who we were with or where.” 

“My father would never harm a child”, he reprimands. 

“Oh on the contrary, maybe a child that had no blood relation to the man who supposedly killed and raped his sister. And that’s still just a ‘maybe’.” 

Jon stares at her incredulously, mouth agape.  
“What do you mean ‘supposedly’”, Jon asks, voice thick with his northern accent. 

“Exactly as it sounds.” 

“Are you insinuating that my father lied?” 

“Jon snow, I honestly never took you for the slow type. But, if you do need confirmation, then yes, I am.” 

Jon scoffs. “You’d think a woman would sympathize with another woman’s tragic end rather than fabricating lies to uphold her insolent brother’s behavior.” 

“Don’t do that” 

“Don’t do what?”

“Compare my trials and tribulations to someone I don’t even know. Let alone to someone who isn’t even alive to tell her supposed testimony” 

“There’s that word again”, Jon grits through his clenched teeth. 

“Tell me this Jon, what proof has your father ever given you about what happened if not from his or his fat fuck of a friend’s mouth? And since you put so much faith in the Baratheons, why aren’t they here right now?Why is the bloody sister of the man who killed your beloved aunt here?”, she demands, leaning over slightly. 

He’s flabbergasted. She’s right. He’s never heard the declarations of what happened with Rhaegar and Lyanna outright from his Father’s lips. Always from Robert’s drunken state of mind when he’d make his yearly visits, blabbing about why his life is the way it is now. ‘That blasted silvered haired fool took what was his’, he’d roar. His wife not even a few leagues away. He’d also hear his playmates describe how they’re mother told them what brought the end to the Targaryen household. How house Stark and Baratheon and Lannister reigned down upon them with a Hell filled vengeance. Even Old Nan told him stories. The gossip that usually surrounded the soldiers, too.

Can he open his mind to the possibility that he doesn’t know exactly what happened? He wouldn’t be surprised if the Lannisters were involved, Tywin Lannister did marry his daughter off to Robert before Lyanna’s body even hit the morgue table properly. 

No!

None of that matters, because he also remembers his father melancholy when he’d go down to the crypts and stare at his sister’s statue for hours. Staring endlessly at a stone statue as if he hoped that any second it would open and out walk a brown haired lass. Even Lady Catelyn was saddened by the ordeal. There has to be some truth to it. 

“No, he didn’t.” 

“I rest my case.”

“But that doesn’t matter. What your brother did left my father grief stricken. With a black-“ 

“Oh please, spare me the details”, Daenerys cries. 

He heaved a heavy sigh. Gods, this woman was so infuriating! Their fighting over the past is completely pointless when they both have the same enemies in the now. And that’s exactly what he tells her. 

“What did and didn’t happen doesn’t matter now, Daenerys. What truly matters now is that the Lannisters still breathe. The twins that like to fuck, the imp, and every fucking distant relative those bitches have. That’s why we’re here now, to bring that to an end. Not solve one of Westeros’ biggest mysteries that’ll more than likely never be solved.” 

“Fine. I believe you were educating me on how a man”, she motions her hands over his body, “of your build could play a sport such as football after I so foolishly stated that one couldn’t.”

“Aye, you don’t see them that often, but when you do, you’re in for a hell of a show. And altogether, I don’t consider myself like most men”, he retorts, picking up his pack of cigarettes and lighting one. He offers her one also. 

She takes the offered cigarette and leans over the table so he can light it. She takes a puff and begins to talk. “Confidence, I like that in a man.” 

“I like that in a woman.” Jon knows it was bold, and especially after the argument they just had, but he’s just a man, and she’s a fucking gorgeous woman. Literally everything about her is criminally beautiful. Her plump lips. The perfect way her breasts sit. And in this last week, he’s had the perfect chance to note that she has the perfect ass. In fact, he’d say the best ass he’s ever seen. Namely better than Val’s, Ygritte’s, and every other woman he’s fucked, but can’t remember her name. 

“Well, if I haven’t offended you so, may I ask what position you played” 

“I was running back. What I lacked in size, I made up for in speed.” 

“Did you make a lot of touch downs or were you just in the sport for daddy?”

“No, I enjoyed the whole thing. Coach said I could’ve gone pro.” 

“Then why didn’t you”, she asks, looking genuinely confused. 

“I always had two dreams; Join the nights watch or go pro. And at the time, the nights watch was the fastest way I could leave home”, Jon defends. And it’s the truth. He doesn’t know why he tells her this tho. He shouldn’t trust her, he doesn’t even know her. He told her because of that look in her eyes, the same one in his. Brokenness, longing, and despair. She’s the first person he told. The first time he’s openly admitted that that’s the only reason he joined. To get away from Catelyn. 

“Why would a 18 year old boy want to leave home? That’s all I’ve ever wanted was a home. And here you are, with the white Pickett fence and sane father to match.”, Daenerys mutters sadly. Staring at the table. “What more could you have wanted”, she drawls looking up from the table to him. 

Jon instantly gets angry. She has no right to presume what he did was wrong because she does not know the circumstances of the environment he so desperately wanted, no needed, to escape. He suffered years of Catelyn’s torment. Her petty acts towards him. Even her more direct cruelty. Like her not letting him in family photos. Not giving him the same amount of food as the rest of her true born children. Letting his clothes get tattered before buying him more. Reminding him of his lineage every opportunity she had. All For something he had no blasted control over! His emotions must have been showing on his face. 

“My apologies if I’ve over stepped. I can only assume you know that I have no family, well, at least no family to have ever loved me without expecting something in return, so I can only hope I can dissuade you into believing I was genuinely confused as to why you would want to leave home so young.” 

“You don’t know me”, Jon spits with venom. 

“You’re right, I don’t.” 

“I just think it’s ironic that you wanted to run away from home and I so desperately wanted one to call my own.”

They stare at each other coming to a understanding with their eyes. Jon doesn’t want to fight with her, it’s the last thing he wants. Last thing he needs.

Jon takes a deep long breathe. 

“I’m a bastard.” 

“I’m well aware.” 

“I was 18. It was the last game of the season. It was so cold out that night. I remember, because, I thought my balls were gonna freeze off. I mean, it’s always cold in Winterfell, but it was a different kinda cold that night. My brother, Robb, was the quarterback. He didn’t even want to play football—he hated it. His mother made him play all the same. Simply ‘cause she couldn’t let the bastard outshine the true born. No, never that. Anyways, he threw me the perfect pass. I caught it with ease. I was running with every muscle, every bone, every hope I had. I just had to win. Had to. I’m not gonna even try to front, it was for glory. I wanted something of my own. Something I could say ‘I won, fair and square’. And I did it. I made the touch down. I was honestly in continental bliss for at least a hour it seemed like” he chuckles. Daenerys has made her way over to the bar fixing her a glass of wine. 

“Would you like anything”, Daenerys asks, back turned to him. 

“Ale if it’s there.” 

“Gods, I honestly don’t know how you northerners drink that. It’s blasphemy”. 

Jon laughs. “Have you ever even truly tried it?” 

“No. And I don’t attempt to ever try”, she says with a small smile. 

As she hands him his drink, their fingers brush against each other. It shocks them both. She pulls her hand back quickly and narrows her eyes at him. 

“Did you feel that?” 

He nods before speaking. “I did.” 

“Maybe there are bigger elements at play, Jon snow.” She offers a small smile. 

She’s goes back to her chair to sit down and takes a sip of her drink. Looking at him over the rim of her glass. 

“Maybe, Daenerys Targaryen” 

“Please continue”, she asks licking the remaining droplets of alcohol on her lips. He can’t help but notice.

He takes a sip of his ale before speaking. 

“Where was I? Ah. The continental bliss, which in its reality only truly lasted about 40 seconds before mad men hauled me off and threw me in the air shouting my name. Over and over again. The crowd was going crazy. Some screaming ‘Jon snow’ or ‘gooooooooo number 42’. But none of that mattered to me. Well, I won’t say any of it because I did enjoy the praise. In depth, only one approval meant something to me; my Father’s. I searched the stands until I found him with the biggest koolaid smile on his face. He was truly proud of me, and that was something no one could ever take. Not a object that could be broken. That joy of having your father’s love lasted until I mistakenly made the decision of looking over to Catelyn’s face. The little boy in me—desperately wanting a mothers love—holding on to tiniest piece of rope that’s clearly gonna break the moment he pulled. The look she had in her eyes, I can’t even come close to describing it. Hatred, pure hatred. Every time I came to the realization that I was never gonna be loved or wanted by her in her household, it felt like sharp blades being forced into my heart a thousand times over”. Jon doesn’t make eye contact with her while making his confession, but instead traces a line in his calloused hand

Daenerys looks exasperated. “Why did she hate you so? It wasn’t your fault your father decided to lay with another woman.” 

He chuckles “yeah, I know. I was a constant reminder of her husbands’ betrayal. Literally the living, breathing embodiment of it. So—“ 

“No! What kind of woman blames the son for the sins of the father? No—It doesn’t even matter the gender. No child should be punished for acts they had no parts of or control over”, she growls. “I should know”, she adds, bringing her glass of wine back to her lips. 

Jon knows what she means, she’s been punished her whole life for her father’s crimes also. He doesn’t know the full extent, but he does know it wasn’t a pretty sight to behold—her life that is. 

“That all may be true, she still felt that way no less. You now know why I had to leave. I didn’t belong here. The only reason I even came back was to help my remaining siblings” 

“All I’ve heard from Sansa since I got here was how great her mother was and all she taught her. If you ask me, she was a vile bitch with no outstanding morals.” 

A long pause happens before they both erupt in laughter. 

“Tell me this”, Jon begins once he sobered up, “what would you have done?” 

Daenerys looks like she’s confused for a split minute before her features display a mischievous grin. “Is this your way of telling me you have fathered children out there waiting to show up on our door step, Jon Snow?” 

Jon inwardly groans at the mere thought of him fathering bastard children. “Gods no. The only woman I’ve ever had unprotected sex with is Val, and I know for a fact that she was on the pill. So no, that’s definitely something you won’t have to worry your pretty head about.” 

She nods and brings her glass of wine to her lips. “That’s great to know.” 

“So, what would you do”, he asks taking a big gulp of his ale. 

She ponders what he’s asking.“I would have loved you. Every child needs a mother. Genetics aside. A bond can be built between any man or woman. So, why can’t one be built between a motherless child and a woman?”

It suddenly got hard for Jon to breathe. The moonlight crept in creating a ghostly glow over her. Shining on her like an angel. Her affirmation leaves him bewildered and astonished. The room has gotten smaller and he’s now very well aware of the fact that they’re all alone. Her with her silk night gown and her silk robe to match, and him, with his suit and tie still on. His glock tucked into his pants on his back. No other woman has ever made this declaration. Ygritte always threatened to cut his balls off and Val, well Val, they never even kept their pants on long enough to talk about anything other than how deep to go or what the other wanted to eat after fucking one another senseless. So yes, this gives him the courage to reach across the table and grab her face ever so gently.

Their breaths dance together. She’s watching his lips, but he’s mesmerizing her face. The way her eyelashes and eyebrows are dark brown instead of silver like her silky tresses. He wants to know if she’s silver all over or is it just her hair after all. Theon joked about that, and he waved it off, now he doesn’t want to think about anything but that. Even in these intricate braids, her hair still reaches the middle of her back. He grabs a stray piece of her silver downy hair that’s managed to escape its captures. 

“May I kiss you”, he pleads, his voice coming out hoarse. 

“Yes”, her tongue darts out to lick her dry lips. And gods, oh gods, that display sends him over the edge. He wants to do many things with that tongue. With his tongue. He pulls her out of the chair to stand with him in one swift move. Their bodies are so close in proximity. Both invading each other’s personal space. They’re so close, he can smell the wine oozing from her mouth. He’s pretty sure she can smell the ale he had also.

He closes the distance between their lips, but he doesn’t kiss her just yet. He wants to see if her lips are as soft as they look. And not to his surprise, they are. He then places a open mouth, firm kiss to her closed lips before pressing his tongue through, begging for entry. He then feels the tip of her tongue dart out to meet the perpetrator who’s dying to meet it. Her mouth is so sweet, reeking of the grape flavored wine. He wants more. She leans her head to the side to give him better access, and he does take advantage. He takes her bottom lip in his mouth and sucks on it tenderly, she does the same to his top lip. She moans into his mouth. 

Jon pulls her closer by her shoulders, he wants friction. He needs friction. He wants to feel her writhing beneath him as he brings her apart. His hands move down the sides of her silk covered arms, callused hands snagging at the fabric,making their way make to the small of her back, pressing her into his thick cock standing at attention. He doesn’t even remember when he got hard. He grabs one of her ass cheeks and squeezes them. She gasps into his mouth, lips parting for the faintest second. He chases back after her mouth. Bringing his left hand back up to her shoulder, pressing it to him. He feels her hardened nipples pressed firmly to his chest. Gods, he wants to suck them until they’re red and ripe. He’s so consumed in her, he doesn’t even notice the fact that her hands had found their way to his back...where his glock resided. 

Before he could react, the barrel of his own gun is to his throat. 

“I could kill you right now. Tell your family that masked men came in the night and brought you to your end”, she whispers, sadness exuding her big doe eyes. 

Jon hands are dangling beside his body. “No one would believe you.” His breathing coming out hard, lean chest pumping in and out. 

She yanks him by his tie down to her height, nipping at his lower plump bottom lip. “Sansa would. She still believes she’ll find her Prince Charming, even after her life was brought down right in front of her.” 

He should be dripping with fury. He should be bewildered. But he isn’t. He’s aroused,of all the fucking things to be. His cock twitches in his pants. “Aye, you’re right. She’s naive—too dumb to the evils that lurks in the shadows. Bran might even believe you. He’ll say the Lannisters came back to finish the Job. Rickon’s too young to even fathom questioning the pretty silver haired lady. Arya, oh Arya, you’ll surely have your hands full trying to convince that one that the same Jon who went to the top defense school in the entire world, was brought to meet his makers so easily. She probably won’t get you today or tomorrow. Maybe not even 16 years from now, but she will eventually.” 

“What makes you think I won’t kill her first” she grits out, more of a statement than a question. 

She finally looks up to meet his searching eyes. 

“Because you won’t hurt a child. You don’t hesitate in bringing a man or woman down, especially if they deserve it, but you stop at children. You stop at children because that’s all you’ve ever wanted someone to do; stand up for you, protect you. No one ever did though. That’s how I know you won’t kill her, baby.”

She let’s go of his tie and the gun hits the ground with a loud thud. Water threatening to spill from her eyes. “Shut the fuck up, Jon Snow.” 

He doesn’t wait for her permission or verbal command to do what he already knows she’s asking of him. He reaches out and unties her silk robe. It falls from around her shoulders to pool around her feet in a silent whisper. He isn’t so gentle with her nightgown, grabbing handfuls of it, above each of her breasts, and ripping it in two. He sees the expression on her face go from being shocked to anger. But he doesn’t give her time to react, she didn’t warn him that she wasn’t wearing any undergarments. Her perfect sized breasts on full display. He wants to hold them, so he does. They fit perfectly in his hands. He gropes them tenderly before playing with the hardened nipples. He dips his head to feast on them. Suckling firmly before doing the same to its twin. 

He hastily drops to his knees in front of her and goes in for the kill like a predator to its prey. He has his answer to his earlier thoughts when he sees the little silver curls all over her pretty cunt. What he didn’t expect was to see such a big ugly gash marring her milky white stomach just above her cunt and right below her navel. Reaching all the way from her each side of her stomach to the other. Who could hurt such a beautiful woman? Any woman? He places his hands on her hips and kisses every inch of the wretched scar. Jon licks his way down to her pearly cunt. His face is so close to it, he can actually see his shallow breathes moving the silver curls. He gently puts his tongue through her folds. She tastes so sweet, Gods, she tastes even better than the lemon cakes old Nan used to make. He flicks and sucks her nub over and over again until he has her moaning his name. 

“Jon”, her hands delve into his hair. 

He stands, but his mouth never leaves her cunt. His arms snake under her legs, picking her up with him, bringing her legs around his shoulders, and she clutches to him for dear life, with her hands and legs. His hands laying flat on her back, hoisting her to his face and hungry mouth. She’s choking him, trying not to fall, but he doesn’t care. He’d gladly drown in her ocean. Hearing her faint moans and gasps makes him remember that he’s still dressed. Cock begging to be released. 

She’s so wet, her juices flowing down his beard to his neck. He knows he’s made it to the bed when his knees hit the frame. He brings her apart with his mouth, flicking and sucking her nub.

She pulls his hair trying to hang on to anything. He growls into her cunt. 

Instead of laying her down, he throws her on the bed. She landed on her back. She opens her eyes. She leans up on her elbows, vision still foggy from her eyes being closed for so long. She looks him up and down, seemingly disappointed that he’s still fully dressed. “Take it all off, now”, she pleaded lustily, voice a low rasp. 

He gives her a sinful half smile, but he obliges. First he loosens his tie, throwing it to the floor. Then he unbuttons the first button on his all white dress shirt. The second. Third. Before he knows it, he’s finished. He balls it up and throws it beside the tie. Then he goes to work on his belt. Unlatching it while never taking his eyes off of her. She’s appreciating his lean broad shoulders and fit form. The buckle on the belt hits the floor with a thump. He undoes his pants with haste once he saw where her hand was. Pleasuring herself to him. Fingers making endless circles on her clit. Head thrown back in ecstasy, light whimpers escaping her mouth. The moon light from the balcony creating ghostly glows over them.


	2. Daenerys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Daenerys get to know each other more, Rickon and Daenerys bond, and viserys is introduced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiii!!! Omg I know it’s been such a long time, but I’m finished now and I hope you all like this chapter.

The silk, light purple sheets had become maddeningly hot in her palms as she gripped them trying to condemn enough strength to stay on all fours as Jon plummeted into her from behind. Heart dangerously racing underneath her left breast. High pitched moans escaping her mouth. 

< His length filled her up all the way to her loins, but she knew this was not physically possible and also proved her conclusion that it doesn’t matter the size, it all depends on how you use it. And Jon did know how to use it. Jon was a thoughtful lover, his passion knew no bounds and his strives to bring her to her own pleasure first always came before his. Most men only are selfish lovers, the unwritten history proved itself.

His thighs clapped to her ass as he watched keenly as he slipped in and out of her, fingernails bruising her hips, holding her in place. “Ha-harder. I need you to go deeper”, she croaked out, eyes clenched tightly trying to further her release. 

He ran his calloused hand over her skin to her hip, encouraging her to arch her back to give him a better angle. Jon let out a guttural groan to match her whimpers, both slowly pumping into one another adjusting to the new position. Her hair disheveled on her back like a canopy hanging over a bed from their exertions. The sun beaming in through the balcony sending warm tingles on their already clammy and dewy bodies. 

Acquiring a steady rhythm, he started pumping into her hard and fast, breasts bouncing up and down from the force. Her body felt like someone had set a fire right in the pit of her stomach. His thrusts became more frenzied and ferocious, leaving her breathless after each one. 

Her last ounce of strength that she managed was vastly draining, Jon must have saw this because he snaked his left hand under her tousled hair to grip at her neck, bringing her back upwards to his chest, his nails digging into the nape of her neck. He licked and suckled at her neck, before tipping her chin to his mouth for a hard, demanding kiss. Teeth clanked against one another as they both fought for domination. Her biting his lip, which she’s almost certain drew blood, left him gasping in her mouth. He growled in painful pleasure. 

His right hand came up to grope her breasts in impulsive frustration, pinching and pulling at the pink rosey nipple. She could feel the wet substances of her arousal on her ass cheeks, from his pubic hairs above his sex, as he pounded into her. She could hear sounds of their coupling filling the air, but barely because of the hot drumming in her ear, caused by the sensuous activities taking place. 

She could feel her orgasm near, she just needed a little push over the edge into unwavering ecstasy, so she played with her clit a little. She was interrupted by a strong, angry hand in the middle of her conquest, tossing her dainty hand aside and taking the task as his own.  
Making small, intent circles on the wet nub with his index finger, her orgasmic juices coating his fingers. 

Her pussy was clenching and unclenching around his dick as he stabbed her with each strong thrust. She was giving just as good as she got, gyrating her ass against his shaft, striving for him to touch the back of her cunt. Moaning into each other’s mouth, giving clumsy kisses. She felt as if she was in a state of buoyancy.

Five more thrusts and they both came undone, pleasure rippling all over her body as her cunt greedily squeezed and milked every drop of cum out of him, leaving him muttering shit. She cried into his mouth, their ragged breaths mingled. She could feel her cum mixed with his oozing down her leg, leaving a ticking sensation behind. 

Jon pressed his forehead to the side of her sweaty face before pressing a kiss to the nape of her neck. She could feel his hot, shallow breaths there. He slipped out of her and Daenerys’ head fell into the mattress, panting. Heart still racing. Suddenly missing the way he filled her up. 

She didn’t have long to recuperate before he was grabbing her by the ankles, flipping her over to her back. His raven locks were also tousled wildly, curls spilling onto his face. He kissed her keloid scar before settling between her legs, arms holding her by her torso to him. The gesture made a cold heart feel warmth. In this three day endeavor in this room, she’s learned one of many things about him, he’s a cuddler (she had awkwardly found this out when she was laying on her side and he pulled her from behind to his chest following her bewilderedly asking him what was he doing). Despite his tenebrous appearance, he was really just a small, feisty, lethal, soft teddy bear that liked to be held, she affirmed. He’s the first man she’s ever discovered that liked to hold her after they got what they wanted, or at least the first man she’s aloud to do so. She wondered if it was the same for him. 

After Drogo would find his release, she would disentangle her body from his, recoiled in fact. Daario always tried to hold her, but she had no need for such sentiments. And every other man she’s fucked for a cause, doesn’t matter. 

On day two of three, he had hesitantly asked her what caused the ugly gash marring her skin, in this same position, his thumb and index finger tenderly caressing the scar. She guessed that he felt that he’d over stepped when it took her a while to answer, so Jon showed her his scars and the tales behind them as a bargaining chip. He’d been stabbed twice in the stomach by two drunken men at a party, when he was in school, at the nights watch. He had a cut over his eye left eye. A masked assassin had tried to kill what was left of his family at the burial sights, splitting it straight down the middle with an blade. 

 

She told him what happened, that she was pregnant with her husband Drogo’s baby and had to have an emergency c-section. That it went all wrong because it was performed by someone uneducated; someone who knew that they didn’t have the ability or knowledge to perform such a procedure, yet still did. She didn’t blame the perpetrator for the baby’s death, but herself for being young, innocent, and naive. Sometimes, she’d blame what took place on the fact that she had slit the father of her child’s throat a day before the birth took place. For a while, she thought such acts had no place in the world, but she had came to the conclusion long ago that it’s too cold outside for angels to fly, so she’d ride with the demons. At least they kept her warm at night. 

Death comes for all; women, children, men, babies, even animals. It came to lay claim to what it was owed and no one shall ever be insolvent. 

The baby had came out an premature, silvered haired boy. He hadn’t even developed eyebrows or his eyelashes, yet. His eyes were violent orbs, like hers and many Targaryens before. He had no trace of his father, as far as she could tell, as far as she wanted to tell. The memory of her child’s lifeless, small build in her arms would still come and creep in at the hour of the Wolf and taunt. One of the many peculiarities of her sleep deprivation. 

She never wanted to wonder about a future she’d never have the pleasure of experiencing with her son, she lived by a phrase. A phrase that was her silent plea that kept the screws tight enough for her to keep functioning. 

If I look back...I am lost. 

But sometimes, when she’d be alone with her thoughts, she’d wonder how his voice would sound. What his smile would look like. What would have been his first words. 

She dug her hand into his curly hair. “What’s your body count”, she prompted, getting away from reminiscing torturous memories. 

His head popped up from its position on her chest. “What do you mean body count”, he stammered. “As in how many women I’ve—“ 

“No”, she cut him off. “Unless you were going to end that sentence with ‘how many women I’ve killed’.” She cupped his face with her right hand, thumb moving relentlessly through his beard. The sun dancing on their skin, creating warm tingles. 

“You want to know how many people I’ve killed”, Jon deadpanned. 

“Yes”, she replied, dragging the tip of her fingers across his pale, robust back. 

His left hand drifted down to her hip. “You keep count?”, he asked, eyes dripping with curiosity tangled with amusement. 

“Of course. You don’t”, she breathed out seriously like it’s the most bazaar thing she’s ever heard. 

He shook his head. “I don’t. Is that a bad thing?” 

“It all depends on how you look at it. You don’t remember how many people you’ve killed? Fine. Maybe it’s an coping mechanism, we all deal with our shit differently. Me, I do best by remembering. Every pair of eyes I’ve looked into before watching their souls leave their body, I want to remember it. Maybe that makes me even more wicked and sick, but, I feel as if I forget, that means I’m forgetting what I’ve done. And I don’t want to forget. Thing about that is, I don’t know if I want to remember for pain or pleasure. Anyways, the real inquisition is do you remember the first person you’ve killed. If you remember when you had your innocence. If you want to go back. Tips the scale of your madness. Keeps you balanced. Do you remember?”

Furrowed between the brows, he began, “I was seventeen. My Father took Robb and I to a business deal he was trying to set up. He said that we were men now, we had to know the game. The ins and outs. I don’t know why I had to go, Robb was going to be his successor. He thought the guys wanted to discuss how much work they would want and if they wanted it long term. We were in this big warehouse by the old white harbor. The moment we got there, it all felt iffy. Everything my Father said, the guy had a problem with it. He was itching for a fight. He started to reach for his gun when Ned turned his head. I couldn’t let him kill my Father, so naturally, I upped my pistol and shot him in the dome. I remember so vividly how once the bullet punctured the skin, blood came pouring out like water out of a faucet, and his eyes instantly becoming lifeless holes. I felt horrible—“

“Liar” Daenerys interrupted plainly, mockingly yawning. 

Jon chuckled, ducking his head to bite at her nipple, licking at the skin reddened by the bite. “Am I boring you, baby?” 

She laughed. “Yes, quite so with your feeble lies”, she assured dramatically. 

She didn’t want to live in pretense anymore. It had no place in this marriage. In her life. 

He paused, as if looking for a retort, but finding not one. Instead, he removed his arms from around her and got up to retrieve his pack of cigarettes on the table, laying counterclockwise from his gun. The same gun she’d threatened him death with. 

She admired her view of his taut ass and broad shoulders. The way his muscles flexed on their own accord with each of his movements. Presumably, he had the most beautifully delectable body she’s ever seen. 

Sure, most of the men she’d came across were toned, fit bodies, but they always stemmed too much of something or too little. 

Daario, for example, his ass was sunken in on the sides. His hair wasn’t silky like Jon’s. He’s gotten more of an thin, stringy hair, hair that felt like carpet when she ran her hands through it. Drogo and him both towered over her, men felt inferior to women without height involved, she didn’t need that to be a particle also. 

She found herself wondering whether he’d always donned the long raven locks. She loved the way they cloaked his face, the way they felt between her thighs as he feasted upon her, but she wanted to see what he would look like without them. Maybe she could convince him to part with his beloved hair, she thought. 

He lit the cigarette and took a puff, his jaws coming inward as he inhaled it. The sun rays setting light upon his snow white skin. His shaft on full display. 

“You know”, Jon began, “ I didn’t believe it when my brother and father told me there was a Targaryen across the narrow sea. Let alone two. But as you rose to power, the tales grew, interesting tales of the Targaryen to grace us mere mortals with her existence, being a foreign seductress who collected hearts in a jar like a vampire sucks blood out of a human. They said you were cold, manipulative, and vindictive. The devils favored whore, I recall a few saying.”

Daenerys didn’t walk blindly amongst her piers, she knew what they all thought of her. She simply didn’t care. Why would she? Opinions are made to be had, who is she to stop someone from having their given right? Let them converse about what they thought she was, they only knew a portion of how wicked she could really be. And have any of them cross her, that knowledge should surely be thrusted upon them.

She slid further down on the bed, her left leg peaking out from under the sheet, which barely covered her naked chest. “Hmm, and what do you think now of the Targaryen across the narrow sea?”

“Of who she pretends to be or who she really is”, he asked thickly, his northern accent lacing on to every word like wet garment to a body. 

“Oh you wound me”, she feigned offense with a humorous chuckle and hand coming up to her chest. “I’ve been called many things but never a pretender.” 

“Well, yeah, we learn new things about ourselves everyday”, he goaded, head bobbing in agreement. 

“And what is it that I really am, husband?”

“For starters, you loathe the touch of men, but you like to come off as promiscuous—which you are—but you don’t enjoy it as much as you let on,” he started as the smoke of the cigarette curved around his upper lip and disappeared into his nostrils. “I’m no phycologist, but I think you hide behind your promiscuity. It gives outsiders and naysayers this image that you think you can uphold. A facade. It’s the barrier to the wall you’ve built around the real you. And you act all big and stuff, but you’re scared. Of what? I don’t have the slightest clue. What ever it is—“, he said as he moved to sit on the bed, back against the headboard.”—it keeps you up at night. You don’t sleep. At all. Even when I held you through the night your breathing never slowed. When you are finally forced to succumb to it, you’re restless. Tossing and turning in bouts of sweat. The lack of sleep doesn’t show on your features though, and I think it’s because your body is used to the sleep deprivation. You probably haven’t had a good nights rest since you’ve walked earth.” 

“Are you done”, she spat out. His face was so impassive and it angered her beyond measure that she couldn’t see what he was thinking, that she couldn’t dictate what angle he was playing. 

“No, not yet. Those walls that I mentioned, I think that’s where your true motives reside. Locked away, the key lost to you”, he let out pensively, staring down at her small form. 

If he wanted to dissect her, she could dissect him also. And that’s exactly what she decided to do. Daenerys quickly hefted her leg around his toned waist and came to sit on his thighs. She snatched the cigarette from his hand and glared at his satisfied smirk. “You think you’re an obtuse character, huh, Jon Snow?” 

His arms laid on side of him, skin to skin with her calve muscles. His index finger rubbing at the bottom of her feet. “I don’t think I’m anything. I’m just me.” 

She puffed the cigarette and blew the smoke in his face. “And who are you?” 

“Bastard son of Eddard Stark is what people usually start off with.”

She perked up at that. “Ah! There it is! The label that has defined and refined you your whole life. Bastard. Such an ugly word. Poor little boys and girls who are slighted in life because of their father’s sins. Forever feeling out of place and unwanted by all. And your case takes an even more saddening turn. Because most bastards at least know who their mother is, know who the other half of them is. You looked for her in yourself and every woman you’ve dated. You have walls also. You kept all those woman behind those walls. Never let anybody in, not truly. They would probably ask you why. Why you wouldn’t let them know the tiniest bit of yourself. And you most likely wanted to, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t because of someone you never even knew. The thought of you letting them in and then them leaving you plaguing and tormenting. You tried to hate her, yet you knew if you ever found out who she was you’d crawl into her arms and weep. The little boy in you who just wanted a mother would weep. The teenager who just wanted motherly guidance would weep.”

He wasn’t looking at her anymore. Instead he focused on a love bite above her navel. One of many marring her skin. 

 

“Did you ever ask your father about her”, she continued, albeit, that look on his face made her want to cower. 

He didn’t say anything. 

She shook her head, knowingly. “No, you didn’t.” She placed her right hand in the crevice of his neck, left holding the cigarette. “You wanted to, but you didn’t because the courage never seemed to stick with you once you faced him. Probably found yourself wanting to strike it out of him a couple times. Make him bloody for bestowing such a fate upon a child. For him never protecting you from his wife’s harsh words and actions.” 

He looked at her then, she could tell she caused old thoughts to stir, but then his face went back to being indecipherable. 

“You resented your older brother just based off of his lineage. I can tell just based off the way you grimace when Sansa talks about him as if he was a God. You didn’t want to, but sometimes the pettiness became unbidden. Consumed your thoughts, made them treacherous. Did you ever wish death upon him?” 

“I didn’t want either of them to die. Ned or Robb”, he snapped.

She tsk’s. “That wasn’t the question.” 

“What do you want me to say? That I wanted to strangle my brother just because he had a mother? That a little part of me loathed that everything in his life was set before he even walked his first step? Then there was I, who didn’t even know who I was. Where life would take me”, he said with contempt. 

“What I want is for you to tell me the truth.” 

“The truth about what?!” 

“Earlier you said that you felt horrible after your first kill. But that was a lie and I want you to admit it. I want you to admit you reveled in it”, she said, tossing the cigarette to the floor and in one quick motion, placing her core above his now erect shaft. Lifting up on her knees. Hefting her hand further around his neck, into the fine hairs there. 

She grabbed his erection and slowly pumped. He suppressed his moans in defiance. “You say you felt this way because that’s the way you were told you’re supposed to feel. For propriety’s sake”, she rubbed him between her folds, his breathing becoming ragged, “but the truth is that you loved it. Because for once you had control. That power that comes with taking a mans life is undoubtedly unmatched.” 

A moan involuntarily escaped her mouth from the friction of his penis to her folds. He pressed his forehead to her, eyes closed, and his hands came to her hips trying to coax her down to his waiting manhood. But she didn’t relent. She wanted the truth first. “Admit it.” 

He ignored her plea and desperately tried to bring his mouth to hers, but before he could she moved her head and be settled for sucking her breast. Her thoughts were becoming incoherent. It felt so good, she almost threw her head back in pleasure. “Admit it!”, she said, yanking him by the hair, mouth coming off her breast with a pop. 

He eyed her with obvious frustration. “Alright! I..like it.” 

Without warning she sinked him inside her.

—-

When she came out of the bathroom from taking a shower, her husband was struggling with his tie. He wore an autumnal brown colored suit with his hair loose. His attire matched the color of the leaves brought by the season. 

“Here, let me help you”, she offered, swaying her hips to him. 

“I like your outfit”, he marveled. 

“Thank you”, she said with a closed mouth smile.

She wore a collarless, silk cream, long sleeve shirt, a couple buttons weren’t buttoned therefore some of her cleavage was exposed. She also wore a long black pencil skirt with gold Louboutin heels. 

She couldn’t even place the memory of when she learned how to tie a tie. Viserys was never the suit type of guy so it couldn’t have been from him. He had always been far too busy scavenging for their meal a day or where they’d lay their head for the night to worry about insignificant details of wearing a suit properly. Her brother was a tormented soul, forever drawing symbols in the sand, hoping and praying to the gods that she knew he didn’t believe in, to just give him an ounce of peace from heartache. Trying to drown out sorrows in pills, potions, and fleeting packs of women. Daenerys could never reprimand him for his behavior, for he would look into her eyes, his big amethyst orbs pleading with her, and somehow he’d remind her why he was like this, never with his words, but just with lamented eyes. 

“Rings”, he wondered aloud, halting her from her task, causing her eyes to search his. 

“Excuse me?” 

He nodded towards her left hand, where her marital ring was supposed to be. “Rings. We need rings. There’s no point of this alliance if people don’t actually believe it. And who’s gonna believe it when we don’t even have rings?”

“I don’t know any good jewelry stores here, and it would look suspicious if we were seen out buying rings after we were already married”, she stated, finishing her task. 

“We have a family jeweler that always made house visits for Catelyn and Sansa. I can call him over today, if you like”, he offered, fixing his cuff links. 

“Yes, it’s fine with me”, she nodded. 

“Alright, ill text him now.” 

Before she left to go back to the bathroom for her forgotten earrings, she saw him pulling out his phone. When she came back, he just deposited his phone back in his pocket. 

“It’s done. He’ll be here at 2:00.” 

“Okay. You ready?”

His right hand came up to scratch at his bearded cheek, which lead her to ask him, “what’s wrong?” 

“I-nothing. What do you mean”, he sputtered with a confused look on his face. 

Every time nervousness baited him in the last past three days, he’d bring his right hand up to scratch at his beard, she’d observed. “Every time I’ve seen you ask me something you were nervous about over the last three days, you’ve brought your right hand to scratch at your cheek. So, again, I ask you what’s wrong?” 

He looked at the floor, apparently conflicted before he looked back at her and began. “You and Daario, what are you two to each other?” 

Shit. She decided she needed a cigarette for this conversation. She asked him for a cigarette and he lit it for her and resumed his brooding stance. 

She took a couple puffs before she began. The smoke causing crinkles to come on the side of her eyes. “Me and Daario...have had intimate relations, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“When was the last time?”

She took another puff, letting the smoke seep through her teeth. “The night before we were married.”

Daenerys knew the decision to sleep with another man the night before you marry another was undeniably wrong, which goes undisputed, but when Daario had came to her, the mental wounds she had helped to heal wide open and being flustered by air, she couldn’t help but to give him a bit of peace. 

He inhaled and exhaled a sharp, exasperated breath. “Was it the last time?”

She looked over his form. “Do you want it to be?”

He looked at her incredulously before sighing and closing the distance between them, his hands coming up to rub her arms up and down, heaving a heavy sigh. “Daenerys, I know that we didn’t marry for love,instead for the benefits we’d both get, but these last days with you have changed my perspective on this whole situation. I came into this not expecting anything but what was promised. I never even intended to consummate this marriage if it wasn’t what you wanted. Now that I think I partially know you, at least what’s on the surface. I want to know the whole you, I want to know what makes you happy, what makes you sad. I want to know how to make you smile, and I mean truly smile. I want you to know me like no one else has. With all that being said: yes, I do want that to be the last time you sleep with another man besides the one you’re married to.” 

His revelation left her side eyeing him. Daenerys didn’t know what to say. She’s never done the one man thing. The concept was so foreign to her that it seemed abnormal. And the way he was looking at her, it made her want to efface her whole existence because she wasn’t ready to accept all the things that came with that look. But, if she was going to try this new conquest, she’d probably want to do it with him. “Alright, I won’t sleep with Daario or any other man. Are you happy?” She derided. 

His left hand came up to cradle her cheek, thumb making lazy circles under her eye while he placed his right hand on the small of her back. “Yes, very much so. My wife has just promised not to cheat on me” he said cheekily with a smirk. The sun from the balcony brought the darkened hazelnut color back to his eyes and despite herself she smiled. 

He kissed her then, a slow and languid kiss. He gripped at her ass, kneading it. His hand swiveled around to the waist band of her skirt and he slipped past it. The sensation of his coarse, thick fingers sending sensuous jolts to her core. She felt her back hit the wall as he groped at clothed breast. Her breath hitched as rubbed at the silk that covered her mound. Nimble fingers soaked. But before he could get to the ultimate prize, loud banging came from the door. 

“Jon! You’ve been in there for three damn days and you know Rickon starts uncontrollably crying when you’re not here which means we’ve had to deal with that for three whole days. Get your bloody ass down here!”, shouted a male voice. A distressed male voice. 

“Alright, Bran”, Jon yelled back, their mouths parting as he bumped his forehead against hers. He gave her one final peck full of promise. “Later.” 

She could hear his footsteps echoing and they became faint eventually so she assumed he had retreated

He extracted his hand from her skirt and licked the juices from his fingers. 

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jon snow”, she said with mirth as she fixed her disheveled appearance. 

He opened the door and looked back at her. “I keep all my promises. I plan to keep those to you especially”. 

He held out his hand to her, she took it. They walked the halls of Winterfell hand and hand. Eerie, hollow, dank, and enormous was four of the many adjectives that described Winterfell.  
Dark corridors lightened by torches plastered along the walls; cloudy skies; coldness that seeped into your bones. Stark contrasts to the vividly colorful land she left behind. 

Defunct was the livelihood and now functioning was the tangible visage of revenge that all the Stark kids possessed. 

As they rounded the corner to the kitchen she could hear shouting. 

“I know you did it, Arya!”

“Sansa, please! Why would I do it?!”

“Because you’re always doing things like this!” 

“I’m always pulling pranks! Not smearing your lipstick all over the wall.” 

“Same thing!” 

“No, and if you think it is that means I need to step my game up”, Arya corrected. 

“Gods, you’re so irritating”, Sansa screeched. 

“Hey, hey! Have either of you stopped to think maybe the curious four year old did it”, Bran asked. 

Both girls eyed the little boy who peered up innocently. 

“There’s your culprit”, Arya said with smugness. 

“Why would you do that Rickon? I told you to not go in my room unless I was in it”, Sansa said, visibly trying to keep her irritation at bay. 

“I did mean to”, he stated, big doe eyes pleading. “I was in your room playing with your lipstick and I fell, that’s when I smeared it by mistake.” 

“Here you are falsely accusing me just because I may or may not fit the said description. This! This is discriminatory and I for one will not stand for it”, Arya said, with a mocking smirk. 

“Shut the fuck up”, Sansa yelled.  
She touched Rickon’s shoulder comfortingly. “It’s okay. Just don’t let it happen again.” 

“Okay”, he muttered. Eyes downcast.

 

All occupants of the room eyes flew to the newly weds standing in the doorway. Little Rickon, who was atop of the counter eating a popsicle, hopped down to lunge into Jon’s arms screaming Daddy as he ran. Jon let go of her hand and held his arms open for the small child. Both had childlike smiles plastering their faces. The sight brought one to her own

Daenerys knew that Rickon was young when his parents were killed and he most likely didn’t even remember them. She didn’t need to ascertain that Jon probably had been the only father figure he remembered since he was able to remember. 

Kind of ironic how the child Catelyn loathed became her children’s savior. 

“Daddy, look, I have a popsicle!” he giggled, holding it up for Jon to see.

“I see, but it’s 10 am. Didn’t we say no treats before lunch”, Jon chided gently. 

“Yes”, he admitted sadly, holding his head down. 

“He wouldn’t stop crying so we had to give him something to make him shut it”, Arya piped as she plopped down at the table with a banana. “And for you, might I add” 

Bran came to sit across from her and said, “Aye, Jon, where were you?”, he smirked before he started stuffing his mouth with pancakes. 

“Yeah, Daddy, where were you”, Rickon asked frowning. 

Jon leaned over to get a grape out of the fruit bowl and throw it at Bran who replied with a satisfied chuckle. “Daddy was...preoccupied getting to know his new wife”, Jon said, nodding towards Daenerys. “But I’m here now, that’s all that matters.” 

The little boy peaked around Jon’s shoulder to get a better view of said wife. “You’re, da-daerys, right” he prodded, butchering the pronunciation of her name. She didn’t mind though because the mistake had to be the cutest thing she’d ever seen. 

Would my son have had trouble pronouncing my name? 

Daenerys stepped up to come behind Jon, right hand going to the small of Jon’s back and the other on Rickon’s little shoulder. “Yes, I am, but you can call me Dany. Is that alright with you?” 

He nodded. “But isn’t Dany a boy’s name?”

“Well, yes, but it’s really just my name shortened. Like a nickname.” 

“A nickname”, he asked obviously unbeknownst to the term. 

“It’s a name that your family gives especially for you. Or it can be a token of ones character given by friends.”

Little rickon turned his attention back to Jon. “Daddy, how come I don’t have a nickname?” 

“You do! You’re my little monster!”, Jon lauded enthusiastically, tickling Rickon, sending him to infectious bouts of laughter that seemed to infect Daenerys also because she had a smile on her face just as bright as the sun itself. 

In her periphery, Daenerys could see Sansa roll her eyes at the display and walk out the kitchen taking angry steps. 

Jon hefted Rickon over his shoulder after taking the popsicle from him and throwing it in the trash. He pressed a kiss to his curly head and sat him in a chair. He then fixed the little boy a bowl of cereal. “Daenerys, do you want anything?” 

“Umm, perhaps you could have your cook to make me an Essosi omelet?” 

“An Essosi what”, Bran asked. 

“It’s this contraption that has all sorts of fruits infused into a big circular egg”, Daenerys answered. 

Bran faked gagged. “Ew! That sounds disgusting!” 

“Instead of finding my wife’s eating habits disgusting, tell me you called the plumber like I asked”, Jon said, hitting Bran over the head with the news paper, sitting at the head of the table with a cup of coffee. Rickon was to his left and he motioned for Daenerys to sit at his right. 

“I did, jackass. They said they’d send someone out today around 2:00”, Bran returned. 

“Are the toilets still clogged in the down stairs bathrooms badly”, Jon asked, sipping his cup of coffee. 

“Gods, yes. It’s disgusting. Shit is everywhere!” 

Arya hit Brans’s arm. “I’m eating for fucks sake. Please!” 

“Why is everybody hitting me today?!” 

“Because you don’t talk about feces at breakfast”, Arya yelled, hitting him once more.

“Jon asked, blame him”, Bran retorted loudly. 

“No yelling at breakfast, lunch, or dinner”, Rickon piped. 

“Daddy’s little monster has manners! Unlike your childlike siblings”, Jon chimed in, nuzzling his nose with Rickon’s. 

Warmth filled Daenerys’ heart once again at the sight of Jon and Rickon’s bond, it left her stomach feeling queasy at the thoughts that crept in. 

Would he be like this with our children? Does he even want kids? Would he even want them with someone detached as me?

Compartmentalize, Daenerys. 

“Daenerys....Daenerys!”, Jon called, causing her to drift back into reality , which she was grateful for. 

“Huh?” 

He pointed towards the newly found plate in front of her. “Your Essosi Omelette. Wouldn’t want it to get cold.” 

She smiled at him after thanking him.  
She picked up her fork and plucked a bite into her mouth. “It’s absolutely disgusting when it’s cold.” 

Bran eyed the Omelette with disdain. “It looks absolutely disgusting either way.” 

Daenerys laughed at that, but Jon obviously didn’t find amusement in the jape didn’t because he brought his hand up to smack him on the head. “Eat your bloody pancakes!” 

“Dany.” 

Daenerys looked up to Missandei standing in the doorway. She had a unsettling look on her face that instantly made Daenerys get up from her chair. She looked to Jon and spoke. “I’ll be right back.” She pushed the chair back to make enough room to extract herself and made her way to Missandei, her heels clanking as she walked. When she made it to her, Missandei ushered her further into the hallway, before she started. Daenerys could still hear Jon and his family arguing. 

“We have a situation”, Missandei gently said with uncertainty sticking to every word she let out next. 

Fear gripped her. “What is it? Is it the unsullied? The Dothraki? Gods, I told them to go unseen.”

“No—no! It’s Viserys”, she rushed out. 

Fear was now stricken with anger, both fighting each other to make it to the surface. “What did he do now?”, she asked with contempt. 

“Well, apparently, he had a little two party show last night. And now the parties over, but the party goers want what was promised. The problem is, Viserys is out cold and the two women are demanding the 2,000 Westerosi’s he swore on his mother’s life he’d give.” 

Anger won in the end. “Fuck”, she exclaimed, hand coming up to pinch at the bridge of her nose. Trying to hold on to a semblance of tranquillity. “Where are they?” 

She pointed up. “Upstairs on the second floor. They both refuse to leave until they get their money.” 

As they walked to their destination, they passed maids and cooks who waved in passing, even though Daenerys didn’t reciprocate. The want of strangling Viserys consuming her thoughts, leaving her manners forgotten. 

When she opened the door, it creaked in protest. The women of the hour were hastily putting their garments back on. 

The raven haired one spoke up as she put her shirt on. “You’re his sister, right?” 

Daenerys clasped her hands in front of her and donned a closed mouth smile. “Unfortunately.” 

“Well, your little shit of a brother promised us 2,000 Westerosi’s and safe passage to Starfall and now he’s telling us to fuck off after we upheld our deal of the bargain” the raven haired woman bristled, gesturing towards Viserys sleeping body. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name?”

“Ayla.” 

Daenerys nodded towards her red head companion.

The raven head girl spoke once again, annoyance sticking to her tone. “Hers is Daienia.” 

“So pleasurable to met you both, Ayla and Daineia”, Daenerys prompted with a tight smile, looking between the pair. “My dear friend here, the lovely Missandei, will pay you both in full and buy first class tickets to Starfall. The first flight available.” 

Ayla just nodded, but Daienia hesitantly said thank you. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to dissect that the two girls were merely displaced and desperately trying to find a way. This affirmation caused Daenerys’ next statement. 

“I’ll even do you one better. I’ll also have Missandei to double your payment, and give you both enough money to pay for a years rent in Starfall at the Caratla hotel.” 

Daienia lurched to Daenerys and hugged her with enthusiasm only a child could possess, she couldn’t have been more than 18. Ayla, however, wasn’t so much the enthusiast. She just crossed her arms in a defensive manner, nodding towards the floor. And Instead of expressing her gratitude, she settled with “your brothers an asshole”. 

That made Daenerys laugh. “I think we both can agree on this dissent.” 

Ayla allowed her mouth to flash the tiniest bit of teeth. “Thank you, Daenerys.” 

“Don’t thank me yet, you don’t have the money.” Daenerys held out her hand, ushering them to go with Missandei. Before they got all the way out the door, she felt compelled to warn them. “For future references and events, don’t consider the deal closed if you don’t have the gold. Lies were created to be told, and men such as my brother will willingly lead strays to slaughter.” 

Ayla looked uneasily at Daenerys, seemingly caught off guard, but it looked as if she heeded the warning, nonetheless. 

Daenerys hoped she hadn’t scared the girl, but she needed to be enlightened. 

Enlightenment could save so many. 

They both said goodbye as Missandei took them out of the room. 

Daenerys assessed the room. There were Xanax scattered on the table, some had fallen onto the floor and had been crushed and turned to dust bits. Yellow particles contrasting with the dark marble of the floors of Winterfell. Bottles of whiskey laid flat by the bed, the table, the bathroom door, and the balcony. The room reeked of alcohol and must. The smell of sex making the air thick and tangy. 

Her brother on the bed with the coverlet half covering him, leaving his scrawny torso exposed. 

She hated him. 

No, she knew that wasn’t true. 

Her brother was a nuisance, an itchy tag at the back of your neck that wouldn’t give you peace until you tore it off. She felt hollowness when she looked at him, in his eyes. Empty amethysts that turned into black holes of despair, if you looked long enough, true enough. She doesn’t even know why she brought him here, she wanted to leave him, to wallow in his own filth. 

But, like always, he prevailed. 

And, she loved him. 

Despite everything. Despite the lies, the embarrassments, and the disgusting habits, she loved him. 

She looked upon her brother’s body with sadness, then it fumbled into resentment, then it twisted into unbidden anger. She swiped at a tear before angrily grabbing the whiskey bottle by the bathroom floor and filling it with scalding hot water. Daenerys came to stand over her brother’s body, staring daggers into his chest and face. The bottle in her hand wet on the sides from the water, making the pads of her fingers wet, threatening to slip out of her already flimsy grasp. 

Above his thick mop of hair, laid the pendant. It was half open, revealing the picture of her dear mother, smiling, nuzzling her baby’s cheek. Her mother would be revolted by what he had become. In all honesty, she wasn’t any better than her brother. She’s killed people for reasons that didn’t even deserve such a fate as death. She’s lied. She’s murdered without any empathy. She’s no better, she’s just as hollowed as him. At least that’s what she thought. 

I try to be humane. 

Thinking of how disappointed her mother would be of them both, it squeezed her heart unbearably and made it hard for her to breathe. Her heart convulsed in her chest. She needed to focus on something else, so she turn the bottle sideways and started to pour. She wanted him to hurt, as much as he made her hurt. The saddest part, is that he doesn’t even realize he’s dampening her existence with his antics. Or maybe he does...and just doesn’t care. 

The first drop of water didn’t wake him, but as the water seeped into his nose, he huffed coughs and began gasping for breath. The stray drops of water that bounced off of his skin wet her skirt. Good, she thought. 

“Fuck! Dany, what the fuck are you doing?!”, he seethed. 

She threw the bottle to ground with more force required. It hit with a loud clank. “No! What the fuck is wrong with you? You dumb fucking imbecile.” 

He fell to the side of the bed, still coughing. The sheet covering his lower part. “You could’ve killed me”, he said through labored breaths. 

She scoffed. “I’m not that lucky.” 

He sat down on his bottom, bringing the sheet further up his body. Back to the bed, hanging his head low. “What are you even mad about?”

“I’m mad at the stupid shit you continue to do. Like bringing two hookers and promising them something you obviously don’t have. I’m mad that you won’t grow the fuck up and be a man. I’m mad at the fact that you won’t stop filing your body with alcohol and pills and coke”, she said, waving her hand in the direction of said things. 

He rubbed his thumb at his eye, trying to rub away the drowsiness. “You must be disappointed in me, sweet sister”, he drawled, finally looking up at her with empty amethysts. 

She shook her head, face hot with heat. “No, I would actually have to expect something to be disappointed when I don’t get it.” 

He rolled his head around and then did the same with his eyes. “Gods, you’re so dramatic. You got this from Father. He always was the flare for dramatics.” 

“And you must have gotten your incompetence from him also”, she retorted. 

“Insults. That’s all I ever get when I see you”, he said as he got up by pushing up on the bed for support, grunting. 

She moved out his way as he made his way to the bathroom, fists clutching the sheet around his waist. “Give me reasons not to.” 

He shut the door with a slam. She could hear water running and presumed that he was dosing his face with water to make the fog clouding his eyes come to an end. 

Viserys trotted out the bathroom, sheet still around his waist, hair and face wet. Droplets dripping down his forehead and back. He started ruffling through the covers. “One day, I’ll surprise you. Leave all you naysayers with your mouths open.” 

She folded her arms, easily unconvinced. “Unprecedented.” 

Instead of saying a comeback, he just kept rifling through the covers. 

“What are you looking for”, she asked, calmly. Her anger simmering. 

“Ha!”, he huffed with a dry chuckle, holding something in the air balled up in right hand. 

She watched him closely as he went to the table and sat in one of the chairs and began to empty out a clear, plastic bag. “Are you serious? Are you fucking seriously gonna do that shit in my face after the conversation we just had”, she bristled, nostrils flaring. 

Viserys ignored her, which made her even angrier. He gathered the cocaine in one thin line with his pinky finger. He looked up at her, nonchalantly, and asked, “do you have any bills on you?” 

She drew her right arm backwards and punched him square in the nose. Blood squirted all over the table. He instantly held his bloody nose, blood seeping through his fingers, dripping onto the white sheet. He fell to his knees once again, moaning. She began to walk out of the room, positively done with his shenanigans. 

“Fuck, dany, don’t go. I think I took the wrong pill, I’m nauseous.” 

She left the room without looking back

Coming down the corridor to the kitchen, she saw a man with a buzz cut. He had on a plumbers outfit with the letters ‘LAPTD’ written in bold fonts. He waved at her, and she forced a small smile. Desperately trying to cool her temper. She wondered what time it was and looked at her watch to see it was 15 ‘till 2:00 and remembered Jon and her were supposed to be meeting with the jeweler for their rings. 

Daenerys entered the kitchen, Bran and Arya were no longer residing; leaving Rickon and Jon. The little boy was sitting atop the table, directly in front of Jon’s chair. His dainty legs swinging back and forth.

“They have all sorts of sea animals. Dolphins, sea turtles, hammerhead sharks, even whales! And many more”, Rickon lauded happily. 

“And what is this place called”, Jon asked, arms on each side is his chair. 

“Braavos sea world”, he answered. 

“Let me get this straight. You want me to go all the way to Braavos for an aquarium when we could easily go to the one in kings Landing.”

“It’s not the same, daddy. There they have places where we can stay and they let the kids ride the dolphins.” 

Jon shook his head. “I don’t know, buddy.” 

“Please, daddy”, he pouted. 

“Maybe next-“

“For New Years”, Daenerys cut him off, sitting down to Jon’s left, “we’ll go for New Years. It’ll be my present to you.” 

“Oh, Dany, are you serious? Will you really take me”, he asked. 

“Yes”, she answered, smiling. 

He hopped into her lap and threw his arms around her neck, hugging her tightly. She could feel his smile on her skin from where he had his head buried in her neck. She awkwardly and slowly wrapped her arms around him, and closed her eyes. She put her nose into his hair and breathed in. He smelled like crisp snow and Jon. She smiled. 

She felt Jon glaringly conspicuous at her, but she ignored him and let the warmth of Rickon’s giggles fill her ears. 

Rickon pulled back and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you so much, Dany.” 

“You’re most welcome,” she replied. 

“Do I get a say”, Jon asked. 

“No”, shouted Rickon and Daenerys both. Their laughs intermingled at a brooding Jon. 

——

“It’s too much”, Jon complained. 

“What you want can never be too much”, Daenerys corrected with a smirk.

“But I don’t even want it.” 

“Fine. I want it for you. But the points still valid.” 

They had been sitting with the Jeweler for about two hours looking at rings. Daenerys went through 13 before she found the one she wanted. It was a crafted and polished 12.5 carat octagon Halo Diamond, white gold. Surrounded by 40 sparkling smaller diamonds along the top and sides of the center Halo shaped diamond. Daenerys wanted Jon to get more of an eccentric ring, but he settled on a 14k wedding band, white gold also. Mid-weight style with a traditional higher domed exterior profile, with curved inner edges. And even that took some coaxing from Daenerys to get. 

 

“Men don’t wear jewelry, Daenerys”, he argued.

“Simple men. Are you a simple man?” 

“No”, he pouted. 

She leaned over and bit his earlobe, suckling after to ease the bite. His breath hitched. “We’re Flagrant souls, Jon Snow. I plan to live up to the tales told about me, you should also”, she whispered into his ear seductively. 

He took a deep breath and motioned for the man to give him the Diamond Cuban Link Bracelet in 14k solid gold. He tried to clasp it around his wrist with one arm and failed, so she did it for him. 

“Life isn’t promised tomorrow or even the next minute. It’s best we live to our own desires and will”, Daenerys said, clasping the Link bracelet for him. 

His eyes were already studying her features when she looked up. His gaze heavy enough to be a caress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like what I did with Rickon and Jon. And not to spoil anything, but there’s a BIG clue in this chapter that’ll affect Jon and Daenerys’ life further into the story. Kudos to whoever figures out what that clue is.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I’m an idiot and I don’t know how to plug in the moodboard, I just posted it on Flickr instead. And the link to that is here—https://flic.kr/p/2ccU5LB
> 
> And also, it’s probably gonna be pretty hard for you to envision that outfit Daenerys is wearing —even tho I was descriptive with the details—so you should really go see the moodboard before you read so you won’t be confused.
> 
>  
> 
> And a thank you to Jay (🤢) for helping me with a part of this

“Stop it.” 

“Stop what?”

“You know what you’re doing.”

She smirked. “What am I doing”, she asked innocently, sticking her green apple lollipop in her mouth. 

He cupped the back of her head and brought her ear to his mouth to whisper, “gyrating your pretty little ass on my lap with that scandalous outfit on in front of all our advisors.” 

Daenerys wore a Chanel Vintage 1994 3 piece. The bralette was white embellished fringe trim, texture tweed fabric—same as the jacket and skirt—and a gold, black emerald decorative embezzlement with pearl detail located center front. The jacket had a scoop neckline and decorative buttons. A gold chain belt was located above the waist, loosely fitted around her enticingly short skirt. The outfit left almost to nothing to ones imagination. Her milky, white skin showing between the revealed spaces of her ribcage and thick thighs and legs. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, showing all her beauty in its glorious form. 

Daenerys pulled the lollipop out of her mouth with a pop and brung it to his plump lips. “What are you gonna do if I don’t stop?” 

He gripped her hip, pressing her into his erection. “Bend you over this table and give you exactly what you want”, he drawled huskily, finally letting the lollipop into his mouth.

“In front of all these people? I’ve never been a fan of public displays, but if that’s what you’re into...i’ll try anything once”, she purred into his ear. 

“Jon! Daenerys!”, called an irritated Sam. “Have either of you been listening to an ounce of what I’ve been saying?” 

Jon had met Sam his first day at the Nights Watch. Jon defended him from being plummeted into the ground by two Veteran Nights Watch members who had no business messing with him in the first place. Sam was intellectually equipped in the arts of technology and when Jon had gotten the devastating news of his father and brother’s demise, Sam had been his crutch. He came back to Winterfell with Jon for the funerals and never left. Jon hadn’t a reason to not trust Sam, so he told him what his father really did for a living. Sam had told him he couldn’t run the business alone, so he’d help him with his knowledge whereas he lacked in physical strength. He’d become Jon’s left hand, his brother forever. 

 

To Jon’s dismay, he looked up to learn all individuals of the room eyes had been watching their spectacle and his face went flush. Not with embarrassment or shame, but because his relationship with her was his and it wasn’t meant for anyone to see. He viewed it as a rare artifact that had to be protected because it was already so fragile. This was all new to her, she had told him so. And if she was willing to try—despite internal demons—then he’d make sure no one would deride it. 

Daenerys took the lollipop and threw her head back, letting out a groan. Jon’s lips quirked up at how adorable she looked pouting, but then again, he found everything she did adorable. “Yes, Sam. We’re both listening. Please continue.” 

Sam eyed them both before continuing. “As I was saying, Tywin Lannister is having a ball.”

Jon’s hand went to Daenerys’ knee, his fingertips on inner side of her thigh. “And what does that have to do with us?” 

Sam’s chubby face gave a devious smile. “You and Daenerys are gonna go and announce your marriage during the speech in his honor”, Sam said, turning his laptop around for everyone to see the article about Tywin Lannister’s official declaration for senate. “Daenerys Targaryen comes back to Westerosi shores and announces something we never could have fathomed. A marriage to Jon snow, son of Eddard Stark’ on every news production and paper we can think of.”

Jon scammed through the article and hissed, “Since when did that shit bag want to be a Senator?” 

“The rumor of him supposedly running has been circulating for some time now. This is actually the first statement he’s made regarding said rumors”, Sam answered. 

“Being in that position of power, he could gain even more access to a lot more resources to run drugs without anyone batting a eye”, Davos drawled with a nod. 

Daenerys took the lollipop out her mouth once again. “Where’s it gonna be”, she asked, looking to Sam. 

“In Kings Landing. Everyone’s gonna—“

Daario, who’d been back against the wall, briskly launched forward. “Daenerys can’t go there. You’re basically sending her to the lions den”, he snapped, cutting Sam  
off. 

Irritation etched up Jon’s back and made him hot in the face. Jon didn’t want to have the urge to stick a knife into Daenerys’ bodyguard throat every time he saw him or heard him speak, but the possessory pull he had to Daenerys was primal from the moment he knew she was to be his wife, and Daario following Daenerys around like a lost, wounded puppy didn’t help. 

When Jon saw them in the same room together for the first time, he knew what their relationship was. Daario would reach out and touch Daenerys on the shoulder or arm during a conversation, and his hand would linger too long. Jon would catch him staring at her longingly when she was talking, she wouldn’t notice, of course. Either that or she played like she didn’t. 

Nonetheless, Daenerys had promised to not venture from their bed, and he would trust her. He would not monopolize her relationships with the people who’ve been there for her from the very beginning. Daenerys would make her own decision regardless, that he knew. He valued that part about her.

Daenerys leaned into Jon from her position on his lap and curled her arm around his neck, fingers idly in his hair, and said, “I’ve been in more dangerous predicaments.” 

“That’s my point, Daenerys. You have to stop participating in your own demise”, spoke Daario. 

Jon partially shared the same view with Daario, but his pride wasn’t about to let him voice this aloud. He’d tell her later.

“Oh, calm down. You’re so dramatic”, Daenerys derided. She looked to Missandei, ignoring Daario’s huff. “What do you think?” 

Missandei looked to Sam with furrowed brows. “Who all did you say that were gonna be there?”

“Tywin, Jamie, Cersei, even Tyrion. Some distant relatives. Renly Baratheon, and some senators who support his run.” 

“What about the security? Are they hiring a service or using Lannister men?”, asked Missandei.

“There’s no way of knowing, it’s too soon. The ball isn’t until three weeks from now”, Sam answered.

“They’ll most likely use their own men. Tywin is a paranoid son of a bitch if he isn’t anything else and he wouldn’t trust anyone but his own people. He barely trusts them” interjected Jon. 

“I agree”, said Davos, nodding. 

“Can’t we announce their marriage on social media or something of that nature”, asked Missandei. 

“We could, but it wouldn’t have the same affect. We’d reach minorities, but we also need to the support of the older crowd”, said Sam. 

“Notoriety”, said Davos. 

“Exactly”, agreed Sam. “Imagery is everything. The press will be there, therefore pictures will circulate. People love love. Your families are natural born enemies, everybody loves a tale of star crossed lovers.”

“This way we’ll appeal to the older and younger crowd”, Daenerys let out, pensively. 

“And it’ll be extremely hard for Tywin to kill Westeros’ favorite married couple” Davos’ mouth quirked up. 

“Tywin wouldn’t make a move on them. with all those people around. It’s precisely why you both should go. It’s too risky, too bold”, said Sam.

Agreements of that accord came from everyone in the room, except for Daario. “Are you all mad? You think he isn’t bold or risky? He killed Daenerys’ mother, father, brother, niece, nephew, and sister in law and even your brother and father”, he snapped, halting his pacing to stare Jon in the eye. 

Jon pushed himself up in the chair causing Daenerys to also. He could feel her whole body stiffened. “You think I don’t know any of that? You think I’m not factoring any of that?”, Jon reprimanded through gritted teeth. The departure of his brother and father still was still hot on the brain, and Jon knew not any human being could ever get over the massacre of their whole family. He still felt guilty that his father played a detrimental part in Daenerys’ family murders, therefore the mentions made him even more vexed. 

“Enough, Daario”, Daenerys shouted before he could say anything else. 

Missandei cleared her throat, awkwardly. The tension in the room now palpable “When did you say the ball was, Sam?” 

Sam clicked a few buttons on his laptop, “September 15 at the Kings Landing venue.” 

“Well, are we doing it”, Sam asked for everyone. 

“We’re going”, Daenerys and Jon spoke in unison. 

Daario rubbed at the bridge of his nose. 

“Send Rakharo and I, we will keep Khaleesi safe”, said Rakharo stoically, who had stood eerily quiet by Greyworm’s side the entire time. 

“We shall always keep her safe”, vouched Greyworm. 

Daenerys giggled and hopped from Jon’s lap, the lollipop still in hand, and kissed Rakharo and greyworm each on the cheek. “My boys”, Daenerys crooned. 

Greyworm and Rakharo smiled. 

“I’m coming too”, Daario put his hands on his hips. His shoulders visibly tensed. 

“No”, Daenerys sat next to Missandei at the end of the table, “It’s best you stay.” 

——

“Who are we meeting with?” 

“Ramsey Bolton. Son of the late Roose Bolton”, Jon answered, lifting his bottom upward on the car seat to retrieve his pack of cigarettes in his pocket. 

Daenerys’ brows furrowed. “Isn’t that the son of the man who killed your father?” 

And Step-mother, Jon thought, but Jon knew Daenerys’ had a keen disdain for the late Catelyn Stark. Solely because of her treatment of him, he smiled at her protectiveness. They were on their way to discuss the renegotiations of terms with Ramsey Bolton. 

Jon nodded, lighting his cigarette. “Yeah. Doesn’t matter now though.” 

“Why?” 

He shrugged and inhaled the cigarette. “Because I killed Roose Bolton. And now his neurotic son is the problem.” 

“When exactly? How exactly?”, she asked, turning to him, stopping her gazing out the window to the plush white snow plastering the grounds. 

“Beat him to death”, Jon merely said. 

“And the when?” 

“After my father died, Robb became king. Robb hadn’t known then that the Lannisters also took part in Ned and Catelyn’s deaths, so all the blame went on Roose. Robb and Roose would go on for months with acts of retribution. It wouldn’t have ever ended. I came back for thanksgiving, the last thanksgiving I would have with my brother, and challenged Roose to one on one combat. He was in his late 40s, he should’ve known he couldn’t handle a young able body. Let alone a young able body that’s being trained in the most lethal school in the world. But, he was prideful, so agreed. We met up in Wintertown, by the old barbershop. Anger and grief drove me to stomp his head to mush in the pavement.” 

“Didn’t the Freys also have association in their deaths?

Jon blew the smoke from his mouth. “That’s another conversation entirely”, he said as he saw they were pulling into the abandoned warehouse. 

The white Rolls Royce made a stop with a squeak on the old stone grounds. Jon opened the door, folded the collar of his black, cashmere blend, modern fit topcoat and went around to Daenerys’ side to open her door.

She stepped out and he reached behind her, retrieving her white fur mink coat on the backside, to her disdain. She insisted that she wasn’t cold with this outfit that left so many parts of her skin exposed, she had informed him that she was warm blooded. 

She rolled her eyes as she noticed him with the coat in hand, but she placated him, and allowed him to help her into the mink. Jon took the cigarette that been dangling in his mouth out and placed a kiss to the nape of her neck. “Thank you.” 

Jon’s hand went to her lower back as they walked up to Ramsey. Daario and Jon’s men not too far behind. Ramsey had at least five men at his back. His man Locke at his side. Jon’s nerves where already up, going to these type exchanges were chancy. He had learned that long ago, but now, as he and Daenerys meandered to Ramsey, he knew he had more to protect than himself.

“Well, well. The rumors are true”, Ramsey trailed off, smirking, his hands clasped. “The bastard has snagged himself a Targaryen”, he said, emphasizing the Targaryen. 

Jon knew what he meant before he even said it, but he let words spill from his mouth still. Jon whirled his eyes around his surroundings and then to Ramsey. “I didn’t come here to talk about my marriage.” 

 

Ramsey donned a closed mouth smile. “Of course. Although, we really don’t need to be here.”

“But we do”, he assured with his hoarse voice. 

“The way your father ran things weren’t terribly ill at all.” 

“No, they weren’t. But it is why I’m here today and not him. The way my father ran things—the way our fathers agreed upon—are of the past. This is a new era, and I intend to make it last.” 

“So I take it you don’t want to run in your father’s footsteps?”

“I like to think I’m my own man, but I am eager to learn everything I can.” 

“And what have you learned so far?”

“That nothings free, and I’ll not be taken for my own products any longer.”

“I myself don’t like cheap alley whores, so I can somewhat agree upon your declaration. Tell me again what were the changes in the alliance?” 

There was a dismissive tone to Ramsey’s words, which cause Jon to speak his next words with more assertion. 

“You and your men will stop operating outside of Dreadfort. If I hear anything else about The Bolton clan in Frey, Tully, or Karstark territory I will reek havoc”, Locke scoffed and Jon snapped his head to him. 

“All the fucking Frey’s aren’t even operating anymore”, Locke derided. 

“And why is that?”, Jon asked with a tip of his head. 

“Because you killed most of them causing the ones left to scurry out of town”, Ramsey interjected, smiling. 

“Never think I will hesitate doing the same to you ”, Jon hissed at Locke. 

Jon heard Daenerys giggle at his side. 

“What’s so funny, woman”, Locke said disparagingly. 

Jon pointed his finger at Locke, “watch your mouth”, he reprimanded. 

Jon glanced to Daenerys who eyes narrowed and she tilted her head, ”’Woman’”, she mimicked, “is that meant to insult me? I’d return the slap, if I took you for a man.” 

Locke spat at the ground at Daenerys’ feet. “Who do you think you are, bitch?” 

Outrage enkindled in Jon and he wanted no more than to stomp Locke’s face bloody for being so naively bold, but, before he could act, Daenerys swiftly pulled two small hand guns out of her coat and pointed them at Locke’s and Ramsey’s head. 

Where did she even hide them? 

Locke’s eyes went wide, and his breathing heavy. Jon could see perspiration dripping from temple, mouth agape. Rage dominated Ramsey’s visage and he held his chin high in defiance. Jon knew Ramsey was a sick, unpredictable man and there wasn’t a way of ever knowing what he was thinking of doing.

The mere thought of anything happening to her made his heart violently skip and mercilessly sucked the breath of of his lungs. He had to get her out of here, unscathed. No one else mattered. He knew of the stories that made up Daenerys Targaryen, but at the end of the day, those were just stories. He himself had never seen her in action. 

His gun was easily accessible on his hip, but if he reached for it, they’d all see. And he couldn’t risk what they’d do once they saw. He had a pocket knife he could throw, blinding the man behind Ramsey. 

Daario stood to Daenerys’ left; Grenn, Pyp, and Edd to his right. Jon knew that Daario had unyielding loyalty and devotion to Daenerys. He knew that Daario would go through all lengths to protect her, and in if not in this situation, that would have irritated him. But now, as tensions bathed the air, he relished in this fact. Appeasing his heighten nerves. 

Locke foolishly made a grab for his gun, and Jon saw Daenerys’ finger on the trigger pull backwards, causing his heart to jump out of his chest, quite literally if you asked him. 

The bullet shot past Locke’s head, impaling the right side of his face. Red blood squirted into the air in various directions. The side of Ramsey’s face caught most.

The sound of the gun being fired rippled through the air, echoing in the abandoned building and reverberate in his ears. Guns were pulled Tandem of both sides, the cadence intermingled. The outcry’s of Ramsey’s men clamorous.

“My ear! My ear! That bitch shot off my ear!”, cried Locke, dropping to his knees, clutching his ear. His hand covering his ear was covered In spilling blood. The remnant of his flayed flesh laying flushed and pink on the ground at Ramsey’s feet. 

Daenerys lowered the gun to Locke’s height, the other still pointed at Ramsey. “Your mouth is just as filthy as your body, your mother obviously failed you. There’s always time to teach you manners though”, she said menacingly, smirking. She turned her attention back to Ramsey, smirk still intact, “I believe we were negotiating territories, but now, we’re not. Here’s how this is gonna go: you’re gonna sale petty drugs in Dreadfort as always and run anything we tell you to. And when we kill the competition, we’ll think about giving you broader horizons. The north belongs to house Stark, and Dreadfort is of the north.” 

Ramsey smiled, a disturbing smile, head turning to Jon, but his eyes never left Daenerys. “Oh, I like her. I really like her.” 

Ramsey stepped forward—causing Jon and Daario to also—and abraded his forehead to the barrel of Daenerys’ gun and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. A bellowed laugh erupting from him. 

Daenerys’ grip on the gun tightened. 

Eyes still closed Ramsey shook his head. “Doesn’t sound too lucrative to me.” 

“You’ll make it work”, Daenerys replied. 

Jon could see Ramsey’s eyeballs moving relentlessly underneath his eyelids, but then Ramsey took a deep breath of the damp air, taking a step back and opening his eyes. “We have a deal”, he said smiling. 

It took a beat, but Daenerys lowered the gun from Ramsey’s face and Jon released a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “It was nice meeting you,” she said smiling, turning around and swaying her way back to the car. Her heels clanking in her wake. 

The sight gave him arousing hunger. 

“She’s a rare one there”, Ramsey said admiringly. 

Jon flashed him a look over his shoulder, then at Locke who was pitifully moaning, huddled on the ground. Jon looked at him with disgust and began waking towards the car. 

He came behind Daenerys and grabbed her by the arm, turning her to him. Her pony tail whipping over her shoulder.

“You can’t just do that when we’re conducting business Daenerys. The whole deal could have gone wrong and we’d both be dead”, he seethed. 

Daenerys stared down at his hand and then her violet eyes met his brown ones. A warning flare on her expression as she looked back down at his hand on her elbow and then to his face. Jon realized his mistake and quickly pulled his hand away, Dany was not the type of woman to her herself be handled and jerked around by men in any way, Jon should've known that she was NOT THE ONE!

“You can’t be that mad.” 

“But I am! That was impulsive and reckless!” 

Daenerys looked at the bulge in his pants and pointed to it. “He doesn’t seem too angry at me.” 

Jon looked down, his erection being irritated by the fabric of his boxers and groaned. 

He shook his right leg, trying to appease it and he scowled at Daenerys’ giggle. 

“Get in the car.” 

Daenerys giggled even more, but obliged. Jon slammed the door and made his way to his own. 

They rode in silence, Jon staring sullenly out the window. His erection annoyingly present still.

“You can’t still possibly be angry with me.” 

He didn’t reply. 

He suddenly felt a dainty hand on his knee, then it made its way up to his thigh. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Apologizing”, she said with a sultry voice. 

Her hand palmed his crotch, kneading it. His heart speed with anticipation when he realized what she intended. 

He wanted to be angry. He wanted to let his anger outwit his desires, but he was horny and it left him defenseless to her advances. 

She unbuckled his belt, unzipped his pants, and he lifted up off the seat to wiggle them far enough. 

She wordlessly encouraged him to turn sideways on the seat to give her a better angle. She got on her knees between his thighs and had already began trying to free his dick from his briefs. 

His cock sprang free and he hissed at the cold air that hit it, but soon enough she was grabbing it, engulfing him in her warm mouth, making him forget the cold. 

He noticed that the curtain wasn’t closed and that the driver could simply glance back and see their tryst. He was already squirming and reluctantly leaned forward.

“Wait, wait.” 

“What?”, she asked bemusedly 

He closed the curtain and as soon as he was back in his position, she was enclosing her mouth over him again. 

Her head began to bob up and down, slowly at first. Jon sighed hard, and threw his head back in pleasure. 

She pushed him deeper in her mouth, her lips constricting around his shaft causing a loud moan to escape.

Jon could feel the back of her throat. The thought of knowing she was only using her mouth to give him such pleasure was extremely enticing. 

He bucked, going deeper in her mouth. She held a hand to his abdomen, holding him still. The saliva gathered substantially, slurping sounds obscuring the air. Her moans intermingled with his groans, he dared peak at the visual.

Her breast were spilling from the bralette, and ass in the air. He knew how short the skirt was it, he knew it was doing little to none covering that gorgeous ass of hers and the thought pushed in over the edge. 

He spilled into her mouth, he thought she’d back away, but instead, she swallowed it. Her eyes were wrenched shut as she pumped every last drop out of him. His breaths were ragged and he lazily palmed the back of her head. Saliva soaking the thatch of pubic hair above his sex.

She wiped the corner of her mouth and laughed at how disheveled she left him. 

He gave a hearty chuckle, grabbing her face to give her a searing kiss. 

Her laugh echoed in his mouth as she pulled away. 

“Where did you even keep those guns?”

“That’s for me to know and you to find out”, she laughed, kissing him once more. 

 

——  
Jon and Rickon meandered to the newly built in home gymnasium. 

Right before Robb’s death, Sansa had been attacked while going to school abroad. She was walking back to her dorm room alone on a late night, and a man grabbed her from behind, then proceeded to fracture her nose bone with blows to the face. The event left her rattled and defiled.

When she came back to Winterfell, she wouldn’t leave until months later. 

Robb had gotten her therapy, but that festering fear had never left her and only got worse when Robb was murdered. So, Jon had the gymnasium built to at least get her active. To not leave her wallowing in despair and things no one had control over. 

She even went back to a school with little coaxing on his part, and all on her therapists. 

Their relationship had always been strained, but, even when they were little and she’d give him the cold shoulder or when she’d mistreat him just for his existence, he felt as if he at least knew her. Now, he doesn’t know where to begin. She always seemed so angry, sullen. And he understood that anger. Everything she knew to be had been billowing from her in the span of a year. 

She still had those childish dreams, but he was grateful for this. That meant there was a small hope of her liveliness returning. 

A strong hand on his shoulder stopped him in his stride. He turned around to see him. Jon let go of Rickon’s hand and told him to go into the gym without him. With reluctance, the boy agreed. 

“I don’t think you came here to make chit chat so get right to the point”, Jon sneered. 

Daario pursed his lips, “you’re right, I didn’t. I know you don’t like me, but why is that?”

“You’re right, I don’t.” 

“Why? I’ve not given you a reason not to like me. I’ve respected you in your home.” 

“Respecting me in my home is lusting after my wife?” 

“This was an alliance, Love was not apart of the agreement. You wanted her for her armies, nothing more as I recall. And at the end of the day, I only want to protect her.” 

“That’s where you go wrong”, Jon snapped, “that isn’t your Job anymore. I’m her husband; I swore to love and protect her. Not you. It doesn’t matter how it all began. We both saw her out there today, she’s a big girl, she can take care of herself. I’m certain you’ve seen more of her in action, so stop acting as if the sole reason you have a problem with me is because of that. We both know the real reason.”

“I’ve been the one there with her all this time! Not you, me”, he said a bit loudly. 

Jon quickly looked over his shoulder to see Rickon throwing the ball around in the gym, thankful he didn’t hear Daario. Jon grabbed fistfuls of Daario’s Jacket and yanked Daario towards him. “Keep your voice down”, he whispered harshly, face inches away from his. 

Daario didn’t react, he only shook his head, disbelieving of something that Jon knew not of. His long arms lankily swinging at his side. 

“You have no idea what she’s done for me, what she means to—“, Daario curtly cut himself off, eyes becoming detached. Daario forced Jon’s fisted hands from his clothing and stepped out of Jon’s reach.

Something flashed in Daario’s eyes, but fleeted away frantically, too quickly. 

Jon’s hands formed fists at his side, his nails digging painful groves into his palms. “It’s best for your health that you not finish that sentence, Daario.” 

Daario bowed his head as if he was a dog being chastised. He took a long, deep breath before he spoke. “She’s worth more than you know. Is more than you know. I won’t let her perish playing your game”, he proclaimed with so much devotion, it shambled Jon a little. 

“Is that a threat”, Jon sneered, trying to beckon self control, which was effectively eluding him. 

“A warning”, Daario said. 

Eluded it did, and Jon took a step forward. 

“Daddy”, called a small voice from behind him. 

That small voice sliced through Jon’s surging ire and he stopped dead in his tracks. Rickon had never seen Jon act in any manner of violence, he wasn’t about to change that for the anybody. Let alone the likes of Daario. Jon would protect Rickon’s virtue for as long as he could, he vowed that from the moment he saw what corruption of this life could do to a child. 

Jon ran a grudging, shaking hand through his locks of curls. The other clenching and unclenching, frustrated that he could not release that frustration. 

Rickon stood serenely behind Jon, his rapt, innocence gaze never straying from Jon, cupping the much too large basketball. 

Taking a few calming breaths and one last look at Daario’s retreating form, he turned around. 

“Aye, little monster, let’s go play some ball.” 

Jon knew this would not be the last he saw of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it! Comment and tell me how you liked it.


End file.
